


(Just Like) Starting Over

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Institute - Stephen King
Genre: Also sorry if I get stuff wrong, And probably Firestarter for that matter, Angst and Tragedy!, But I'm getting better!, English is weird to me, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Blame Tumblr, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I mean like a ton, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, I'm not really a fan of fluff, Plenty Of References, So????, Spoilers for The Institute, Theres a whole lab dedicated to Derry, What Was I Thinking?, i can’t write it, it's wild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the middle of a quiet yet vibrant Albany night, Jane “El” Hopper is taken from her apartment without a trace of anyone being there. In and out in only a few moments, it is only her adoptive father that notices the difference. The young girl, who had been flagged for telekinetic abilities since birth, is brought to a Georgian lab where she meets other children like her.Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, and eventually a skittish boy by the name of Will Byers are all in the front half, where they receive periodic injections, tests, and tokens for good behaviour. But eventually, after the mysterious workers determine they are ready for the dreaded back half, the group-as well as the others that come and go to the lab-are bound for a plunge into what can only be described as the roach motel, where you check in but never check out.But despite the seemingly harmless situation and the promise of an eventual return back to their families and lives before the tests even began, El can’t help but become more and more desperate to get out. But there lies the problem: No one has ever escaped the lab.Or: A "The Institute" AU
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers & Dustin Henderson & Lucas Sinclair & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane & Dustin Henderson & Maxine Mayfield & Lucas Sinclair & Mike Wheeler, Will Byers & Mike Wheeler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue: A Night to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you so much for clicking on my work! It means the world to me, and I truly hope you will continue reading my story! That being said, I would just like to put some things in at the beginning as a sort of warning/stuff that might be of interest to you.
> 
> I) This story contains massive spoilers to The Institute, and is something you would want to wait a bit to read should you have intentions to read it. (It's a really good story similar to Stranger Things, and is something I would suggest reading if you ever have the time!)  
> II) I, unfortunately, am not able to speak English that well, as it's not my mother tongue. While I am constantly trying to improve, I am most definitely going to mess up on a few things, and I apologize in advance.  
> III) Though I’ll try to post as often as possible, I’m sadly still a student trying to make my way through the school system without failing. That being said, I’m also way too involved in my school’s theatre company, and will likely have to take a hiatus to balance out both school work and my extracurriculars.  
> IV) I would like to put a large trigger warning at the beginning for the entire series, as well as putting specific warnings at the beginning of the chapters in which they occur. The Institute being essentially based entirely in Stephen King’s equivalent of Hawkins Lab, there is going to be a lot of instances where things such as cattle prods, drugs, water boarding, and injections will be used. If this upsets you in anyway, I suggest to possibly chose another story, as such actions will occur quite a bit.
> 
> Trigger warnings for: Drug usage and mention of violence.
> 
> I believe that is all for now, but I will definitely update with more information in coming chapters. Enjoy!

‘Eat without me,’ the note pinned to the bulletin board read, ‘Working late tonight’. El sighed, brushing the paper to the side. This was the third time this week Hopper had stayed after hours, and frankly, she was getting a bit tired of not seeing him.

Really the only downside to December, which Hopper has once stated to be the ‘best time to commit murder’. It seemed like every other day, there was a new case that required staying late to solve. The man found in the snow, frozen and strikes with numerous amounts of frostbite: Accidental or has the Mrs finally snapped? The florist lady, punctured by her own pruning shears, had she finally had enough of her less than flowery life or has her coworker gone rouge?

All reports that had appeared in Hopper’s Albany Precinct over the last few days, keeping him later and later with each passing night. Tuesday, he was there until 7:42. Wednesday, he was there until 9:56. Who's to say what time he’d be strolling into him and El’s small apartment on this especially murderous night?

And so, despite her wishes otherwise, El gave into her another night of pure silence tainted only by whatever outside noises deemed themselves important enough to ring through the entire city and the potential for the less than savoury sounds of their upstairs neighbours.

Though she supposed she didn’t mind too much. It left her with the ability to finish any homework that may have been assigned (Which seemed to dwindle down more and more with winter break quickly approaching them), and she got to watch as many reruns of Password Plus and Card Sharks as she wished without Hopper commanding she “Turn that garbage off!”. Nonetheless, El still felt as if having at least a little bit of company after school.

And so she got to work, keeping a steady eye on the clock to mark the exact moment Hopper finally came home. Who knew, maybe today he’d surprise the world by coming home at say 7:21, or maybe even 6:53? An unlikely though, but comforting in an odd way.

First, it was math, with the sound of Allen Ludden’s playful voice accompanying her as she treaded through a series of equations meant to determine the value of x, as well as a few word problems in which she had to balance out a set of fractions. Not being her most favourite subject, it wasn’t until 7:13 that she finished. No sign of Hopper just yet.

Next was science, with several balancing equations and Lewis Dot model problems. At that point, Password Plus had switched to a less than thrilling run of Supermarket Sweep, a show that was never really on the top of her list. Luckily for her, though, the TV guide wasn’t too against her that day, as only a few channels over another episode of General Hospital was playing. But even after spending another forty minutes on her homework Hopper was still nowhere in sight. 

To be honest, it all started becoming a bit worrying for her. The minutes only got later and later, and usually, when Hopper was this late he’d at least make an effort to call in and assure her that he was okay and inform her if he’d at least be home that night. She knew that he was smart but still couldn’t shake the feeling. So, after finishing her English homework for the night, she made her way to the home phone, hoping that at least one of his coworkers would pick up.

She’d practically had the phone number burned into the back of her mind since she was a child when they’d first moved to Albany from Bloomington. Though she was very young at the time, no more than three or four, she could distinctly remember Hopper grasping her hand tightly and dropping any sort of joking attitude a small-town cop could have.

The instructions too. If Hopper’s not back when she gets home from school, lock all doors and don’t go out unless told otherwise. Don’t take rides or food from friends, and call only the precinct should she need something. It was a list that she hadn’t quite saw a need for but never dared question. It was one of the only things Hopper seemed firm on and didn’t wish to displease his wishes.

As El punched in the numbers, she briefly scanned the kitchen’s clock. Tick, tick, tick, tick: What’d you know, it’s 9:46 and your father’s still not home. What’ll be? Heart attack in the middle of rush hour traffic? Or how about shot and killed on the job? And have you ever considered the possibility that perhaps your beloved father took a few too many pills and finally-

“Jane?” A voice-not Hopper’s-interrupted from the other side of the line. It sounded older, perhaps mid-fifties, and feminine. Certainly not her father, but perhaps a coworker. “Jane, dear, what's wrong?”

“Hops still not home, I just wanted to know how much longer he thinks he’ll be,” El said carefully, twirling the phone’s cord between her fingers, but not breaking eye contact with the clock. She wasn't sure if she was hoping for it to go slower or faster, but couldn’t seem to break the contact.

The woman on the other end seemed to murmur something, though it was inaudible from where El was listening. Perhaps for someone to go find her father? I didn’t matter, for now, her only concern was making sure Hopper was still alive, and knowing the exact time it was once he walked through the door.

“I’m afraid your father doesn’t seem to be at the station right now, we think he’s currently on a call in Bronx.” The woman answered, scratching something onto a notepad. A note for Hopper, she was sure. What else could it be?

“Bronx?” El had finally broken focus from the clock. That turned out to be a fatal mistake, though, as the moment she peeled away from the intensive glare the clock came crashing down the wall, loud enough that she was sure everyone in the building had heard it. Wincing, she pulled the phone cord forward as she rushed to pick up the fallen pieces. “That’s almost three hours away, don’t they have their own homicide investigators?”

“Jane, are you alright? It sounds like something fell.” The women pressed, completely ignoring El’s original concerns. El sighed in defeat, knowing she’d been caught. Her only saving grace at this point would be that either the mechanism wasn’t too far broken, or that the women she was talking to wouldn't be too much of a tattle tail when Hopper returned from Bronx.

“I just knocked something over, it’s fine. Look, just, when do you think Hopper will be home?” El concluded, frowning at the sight of the scratched up-but, not cracked-clock. Perhaps it wasn’t too noticeable, and Hopper wouldn’t immediately pick up on it?

The woman paused for a moment, writing something further on her pad and mumbling again to someone in the background. The person murmured back, and finally, the women gave her complete attention to El again. 

“Not until 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning. Don’t stay up too late, and don’t quote me on time. He could be back sooner, seeing as we don’t have any trackers on his vehicle. But do go to bed.” The women said, sounding a bit odd. El didn’t notice it though, as she had busied herself with the task of spotting any more dings or scratches. 

Before El could confirm or deny the women’s terms, the phone quickly clicked the phone down, silencing their conversation once and for all.  
“Okay..” El spoke aloud, putting her own phone back on its stand and moving to hang the clock back on the wall. 

But even with the women’s odd manner, she was right. Waiting for Hopper to return from Bronx-Though why Bronx was beyond her- would do her no good, even if she desperately wanted to know that he was alright. And she was getting more tired, whether she liked it or not. Homework, games shows, and soap operas could usually keep her up for hours, but today the power was wearing thin.

So at 10:18 pm, after Hopper still hadn’t as much as called in to reassure his daughter that he would be home by the time the lady who El had just come to assume to be a secretary had set, she wandered off to bed. This had only been after she scratched a note to be left by the phone with two simple sentences on it: Your secretary said you’d be home by 2:00. Couldn’t stay up that long.

“Bronx?” Teddy crowed, peering at Connie Frazier through the car’s mirror. “You do realize the kids smart enough to realize her father wasn’t that far out, right?” 

Connie shook her head, attempting to avoid the cackles of both Teddy and Harold’s laughs. They said the hardest part of the job was taking the kids, not tricking them into thinking their father who she had even less of a clue of their whereabouts was across state. Sometimes she wished it was them who had to do the ‘clean work’. 

“Daniel said they got records as far out as Maine, and it was the first thing I could think of that had a justified return time.” She shot back, rummaging through her bag to make sure she had everything in place. Or so she hoped they believed, anyway.

“Daniel spends too much time watching melodramas and reading tabloids, it’s a surprise she’s even still around.” Harold scoffed, rolling his eyes in the process. “Turn this way, we’re almost to the apartment complex.”

Teddy shook his head, turning the wheel as instructed and making a dreadfully annoying clicking noise with his mouth as he did so. Oh, how Connie wished she could just slap him.

“And you’re sure Daddy won’t be home yet?” Teddy questioned, now drumming his fingers against the wheel on top of his obnoxious clicks. 

Connie shook her head, pulling three walkie-talkies from her bag and distributing as needed. They likely wouldn’t need it, seeing as the apartments were bound to be quaint, but protocols insisted they have them on them at any point they may become separated.

“Not that we know of. He’s supposedly working one of his latest nights today.” Connie responded, much to her coworkers’ delight. Teddy grinned devilishly as Harold even went as far as to pump his fists up in excitement. The thrill they seemed to get over a theoretically easy pickup.

Which she supposed she could understand. Fewer people around meant less blood and less reason to fear being tracked down. Fingerprints, murder weapons, people remembering the Hawkins Energy and Electric van despite being nowhere near the Indiana city, etc, etc. Taking out the parents gave police more of a reason to try and track down a potentially murderous child, but without the parent around it saved both the possibility for manhunts and their morals. Or what little they had remaining, anyway.

“Bring the guns anyway, just in case he gets home earlier than we thought we would,” Harold replied, dispensing a canister of sleeping opiate from his belt and shaking it to see the amount of substance was left in the bottle. “That apartment, there.”

Harold pointed to a pocket on the third floor, past a street filled to the brim with parked cars and two outdoor staircases. The room in question was room ‘237’, at the very end of the lineup and farthest from where the three sat in their van.

“God, it’s always the place with the most amount of people watching that have the kids.” Teddy groaned, opening his car door and pulling over a cheap Halloween store mask. The other two followed suit, who also grabbed a series of weaponry on their way out.

“It doesn’t matter if they see us, what matters is that they don’t see the child. You know corporate will have our heads if they receive questions.” Connie murmured, quickly slipping on her own mask and rush up the staircase, lock pick in hand and the others quickly following behind.

“Who, Brenner? The damn fool hasn’t found a way to make it so the rascals last more than a month and yet has the balls to call himself one of the world’s most advanced scientists.” Teddy growled, grabbing the pick from Connie and smirking as he made it to the apartment door first. He made quick work, popping the door open within seconds whilst wearing a cheeky grin the entire time Harold and Connie caught up with him.

“Not him, the higher-ups. The ones who set up this entire operation?” Connie corrected lowly and bitterly. They’d talked to the higher-ups only a few times in the span of work, with calls really only being made when something went wrong, but it terrified even the most proclaimed in the company to the point of no return. The higher-ups were not a force to be reckoned with.

But that was a problem they could deal with later. For now, they had to make quick work. Teddy took on the quaint kitchen and living room, as Harold searched the bedrooms and bathroom, while Connie was, begrudgingly, left to stand guard and make sure nobody approached the room.

It started smoothly for the most part, as finding El was a simple task at best. It took only a meer spritz of the opiate to keep her down, and only a few moments more for Harold to drag her from the bedroom. The two cheered in excitement but were quickly shunned to silence by Connie’s sudden ghost-like expression as she pulled away from the window.

“You reckon what car Daddy drives?” She mumbled almost inaudibly. Fear seemed to almost lace her voice as she reached quickly for the doorknob. “What car does he drive?”

Teddy ripped a notepad from his pocket and ruffled through it at a speed none of them knew he had. In only a few seconds, he had his finger pressed hard onto the centre of the one as he spoke the description aloud. “A tarnished station wagon with a dent on the side and writing on the side reading-“

“Albany Police Force.” Connie interrupted, throwing the door open and rushing down the stairs like never before. The task was to no longer take the girl safely, but instead to get out as soon as possible without being detected. Because Hopper would come to pass them outside the building should they go too slow, using guns was no longer an option, as the likelihood of prying eyes increased significantly.

Their only choice now was to rush to the car and speed away as quick as possible, with the hope that they drop nothing on the ground in the process. Such a thing could easily become detrimental to their mission.

“Hawkins Energy and..” Hopper trailed off, squinting at the card left on the apartment floor, but suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. The card seemed to weight down like a ton of bricks. Heavier and heavier until he couldn’t hold it anymore, causing it to slide onto the ground.

He felt numb-How could he have been so dumb?- to the point that it hurt too much. Of course, this happened on a night he wasn’t there, it was always bound to be on a night like this. With no one but El around. He felt like he could puke, but he had to push on.

They were likely miles away by now, they’d always been good at that, but he couldn’t lose faith. Stumbling his way the entire time, he finally made his way over to the telephone, paying little mind to the paper left on the counter and the sound of a car speeding off from the complex. 

His fingers felt like lead as he bit back tears and tried his hardest to not break with every word. How could he allow this to happen again? It didn’t matter, he’d get her back, he had to, even if it was the last thing he did.

The phone rung with each moment passing, ring, ring, ring, with each one making Hopper feel sicker and sicker. He was about to slam the phone down, perhaps try again, something, until he finally heard it.

“Who is this?” A groggy voice questioned, audibly annoyed. And rightfully so, it being almost midnight at this point. But it didn’t matter to him, this was far too important to wait.

“Joyce, god, please, just listen to me-“

“Hopper? Jim Hopper? Wow, it’s been a while... Look, I’m glad you want to talk after, what, ten years? But, uh, I have work tomorrow.. and you probably do too. Unless Sarah’s sick again. God, how is she? She looked terrible when you left Hawkins.” Joyce Byers sighed into the phone.

Hopper’s heart dropped at the mention of Sarah. But no, she could deal with that now. There was no way she would've known, it’s not her fault, she didn’t-

“Check on Will. Please.”

The line fell silent for a moment. But suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, it started up again. This time, with a storm of what could only be described as laughter.

“Will? Hopper, Will’s not a child, why would I check up on him like he’s a toddler?” Joyce questioned, a smile crossing her face as she spoke. “Look, it’s nice to know your alive, but it’s too early for this. We can talk about this again in the morning, hopefully when you're not high on whatever you’ve been smoking.”

Even from twelve hours away, Hopper swore he could hear Joyce reaching to return the phone. In a moments notice, and without even thinking, he shouted.

“Don’t,” He practically pleaded, realizing only after it had come out how loud he actually was. T-they took her, they took Terry’s girl, they’re making their rounds in the area, please just..”

Hopper began to cry, despite his finest efforts not to. But it didn’t matter, it wouldn't matter. Despite the erie quietness, he knew Joyce hadn’t hung up and had heard everything. 

Perhaps she would listen now?


	2. Chapter I: Where it all Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for:
> 
> -Mention of underage usage of drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to start with a huge thank you to all the people who kudoed, commented, and overall took the time to read the prologue! The first chapter has always been the hardest chapter for me, as it over all determines whether or not people will enjoy it and to see people actually reading it means the world to me ❤️! You guys definitely prompted me to write the second chapter, and the chapters to come! Thank you!!

El awoke suddenly, hand pressed to her chest and breathing harder and harder than she ever had before. She felt cold, alone even, and everything seemed to have shifted since she went to bed.

Her bedroom door-something Hopper had insisted never be shut-was closed shut, and the entire feeling of the room had suddenly become almost artificial to her. She peered to the clock, reading 2:37 PM, and immediately felt panicked. Had she overslept?

No, she must have turned on the alarm, there must have been a power shortage. Yes, a power shortage, causing the clocks to all reset to noon instead of whatever time it actually was.

Except they didn’t have any clocks that operated as such, only the ones that would only presume from the time it shut. El drew her legs closer to her body, finding only a little comfort from the action. She felt like she could puke, but wasn’t even sure if she could stand. It wasn’t even as if anything was different, it all just felt muddled together in a way she couldn’t find the words to describe.

Memories seemed to flash at her, ones she couldn't even recall being there for. She couldn’t remember Hopper ever coming home, and yet she could recall his sobs to some lady she wasn’t even sure she knew. She wasn’t recalling any form of nightmares, but she now felt as if the world was quickly meeting its demise. She didn’t know about anytime she left her room, but she was getting clips of being carried...

Being carried out of the apartment by a group of three.

El let out a gasp as she finally realized it all. It wasn’t that she had never set her alarm, it was because there was no reason to get up. But that could only explain a slice of her dilemma. Why was Hopper cry, and how could she tell? The clock, falling from the wall and crashing to the floor, with a phone call to Hopper’s precinct, was this all related? Had Hopper’s rules and please been more than a wives tale?

El stood up, feeling a bit wobbly but needing to get away from her thoughts. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this. Perhaps she was just dreaming? A very realistic dream, but a dream nonetheless? Anything to keep her from spiralling, and supposed. 

Just looking around the room made her feel sick, with no obvious reason to feel as such. She remembered these events she couldn’t possibly have been there, but also seemed too real to be anything else. Not to mention just how familiar everything was. Her room was exactly the same as it was every other day, and yet it suddenly felt like a whole new world to her.

These people-if such people really existed-, they got everything right to a t. Little details that could easily become missable seemed to glow in the yellow tinted light. The rainbow sticker on her door, among all its other half peeled away friends, had never felt so prominent in her life

El moved quickly, trying her hardest to find any small detail that may be out of place. At first, she thought to look at her own body, for some sort of sign that she may be somewhere knew. But as far as she could tell, she was still wearing her pyjamas, and still had the same socks from the Igor before. Hell, even the blue ribbon Hopper had continually insisted she keeps on her still found a home on her wrist. But was that really a way of checking if anything had changed since the night before?

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she made her way over to the peeling wallpaper lining her walls. It was a final attempt of Hopper’s to make the room feel more welcoming when they’d first moved to Albany. She could remember the fussing at Home Depot over whether or not they had any removable paint, and the fighting to ensue over the fact that they were at the wrong store to look for removable house paint. Surely, they had to have something that wouldn’t get them evicted within their first month of living in the complex. They ended up settling for a bunch of stick-on decals of sunflowers, their edges beginning to peel off quickly. Nonetheless, it meant the world to El then and became a sort of mark that she was finally able to call a place home after...

That wasn’t important. The years of being in the system, moving house to house in an attempt to find a family that found her odd and sudden habits concerning were over. But then there lay the possibility that perhaps her fears were back again, only in a much larger and more intense scale. Now, of all times, was the painstakingly familiar decals, with their wispy, brown, centres expanding into bright rays of yellow with small curls at the end to show their unreliability.

Two out of many small details had to count for something. Perhaps there really was nothing wrong, and there had been an outage in the middle of the night. Maybe she was just sick, fighting off a cold that made her hallucinate the idea that she was no longer in her Albany home she’d come to depend on so much. 

El walked towards the door: The final test to prove she was ill. She’d be able to walk out the door and prove to herself that everything was indeed fine and that she’d simply become too tired after waiting for Hopper to return home. Perhaps it was a calamity day, and Hopper had simply turned off her alarm after receiving the golden call. So many possibilities that could all be explained by opening the door, the door in which could never be recreated and would lead to her even more familiar hallway into her even more familiar life. A sort of bliss built up around her in a bubble ensuring her safety and the fact that she was getting herself worked up over nothing. A bliss that could only be broken by the twist of a doorknob…

...Revealing a completely unfamiliar hallway with even more unknown posters to prove it stands on the situation. El gasp as she attempted to bite back any approaching tear, her legs seeming to slowly carry her down the dim-lit hallway. Rooms upon rooms, likely to hold so many more people. Were they too trapped in exact photocopies of their previous lives? With pseudo-keepsakes to create the suspended belief that they were going mad? The entire thought made her sick-even sicker than when she’d previously woken up.

Along with the series of photocopy doors was several mysteriously erie posters, creating a sense of both propaganda and 1950’s posters advertising cigarettes and pre-war ways. Stating things like “Trust the Doctors- They’re here to help!” and “Good Behaviour warrants tokens- Be kind to the doctors during your periodic visits!”

“Shot’s for dots..?” El trailed off upon spotting the largest poster among the series. This one sported a Lot Six style pair, with the ad depicting a doctor and a child with grins larger than life. The background had a sort of noise pattern, with small blue dots forming together to create a flat yet textured backdrop. Below the pair read some sort of slogan, as if the idea of getting shots for dots made any sense to begin with. The line described the fact that you-El?-Shouldn’t “Try to hide when the saw the lights, for the doctors will already know”. This couldn’t be legal.

“Don’t think too hard into it.” Another unknown voice chimed in. But not like the one from the phone call, no. This one was male, not to mention sounded much younger. Perhaps even about the same age as El. El spun around in an attempt to see where the voice came from, something they proved extremely difficult with all the doors (Both open and closed), paired with dim fluorescent lights. It all seemed to be something from some weird, off-brand horror movie based in a dysfunctional hospital.

But once she located the voice, everything seemed to wash over her in a sense of both horror and relief. The voice came from a man-Boy?- sitting in a roomed with its door open just enough for a person to see the inside. From the looks of it, there was a circle rug with a blue and red trim, with said person sitting on top doing little more that peering down… and smoking a cigarette?

El walked closer, getting a better and better view of the boy as she got closer. Black, untrimmed hair that would come to cover is eyes should it not be cut soon; a stripped, button-up shirt that looked liked something mothers would force their sons to wear to solely church and no other event, and delicate fingers carefully twirling an unlit brown a white stick between them.

“It’s not real, you know.” The boy mumbled without looking up from his fidgeting. Not even to take a meer glance at El. “The cigarette. ‘Didn’t have enough tokens for it. You can have one if that kind of thing strikes your fancy.” The boy passed El a box with a vintage-looking font reading “Smoke just like Daddy! Sugar Cigarettes!”. El returned it back without taking one but giving the boy a grateful glance she wasn’t sure he even caught.

“Don’t suppose you have a name?” She finally questioned, kneeling next to the boy as an attempt to gain eye contact. Finally, and almost sorrowfully, she obliged. The boy had almost sad eyes, almost as if he’d been crying. He had dark brown eyes that seemed to wash away the further you got, and giant rings around his eyes to signify a lack of sleep. 

“We all have names around here, it just depends on whether or not they care to use it.” He said, continuing to twirl the stick until finally bringing it up to his lips and biting down. It was only now that El noticed a sort of pain in his voice, one that couldn’t have been built up naturally. “We’re not around long enough for them to actually build any genuine relationships, and half the time they just use dumb pet names to give off some fake bedside manner persona.”

El considered it for a moment, not fully understanding just what the boy meant. Why go through so much trouble to bring at least two people to.. well, wherever they were… only to have them not be around that long? And how had this boy known all this? How long had he been here, and what happened to him that has reduced him down to not giving out his name easily and consuming fake cigarettes?

“It’s Micheal, but everyone just calls me Mike.” The boy finally mumbled, taking another bite of the stick and growing as sprinkles of sugar fell onto his pants. He carefully began to swipe it away, but it only took a few moments for him to lose interest in the task and instead become unbothered by the mess. “Just don’t call me sport, that what they call you when they give you the injections.”

“Injections?”

Mike nodded his head, chuckling a bit as he did so. Though sounding of pure joy and humour, it quickly became clear that the outburst rooted from other, darker feelings, something El would quickly come to learn was how many felt about their supposedly temporary homes. But what more could you do, even in the worst of times, but laugh at even the vilest of questions?

“You wondered what the entire “Shots for Dots” thing was all about?” Mike sighed, breaking away for his less than appropriate laughter and rolling up his sleeve in a joking manner. “It’s like the flu shot on steroids, but instead of preventing you from getting a harmless bug it makes you freak the fuck out until you see dots and get dragged away to the back half where both you and your mental state slowly rot away, simply begging for the day that-”

“Enough!” El practically yelled, pleading for Mike’s description of an even odder place to come to an end. She hadn’t meant for it to be so panicked, in fact, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Mike had come to feel otherwise, though, as instead of judging El for her reaction he instead fell backwards and laughter, being even louder than she had been prior.

El reddened a bit but was quickly reassured by Mike not to worry, as “Dustin had reacted the same way” when he first showed up. Names and places swam around her head as she attempted to sort out all the details coming at her all at once. How these people were able to make an exact copy of her room, why they were trapping children and injecting them with some sort of serum that made them see dots, and where they were to be brought after they did see the dots, all made her head hurt. It was far too much information to be taking in at once, and truthfully she just wished to be back home with Hopper, and not in wherever she happened to be now. 

“Look, I know it’s a lot right now, but you’ll quickly get used to it. Just..” Mike leaned in and in a blink of an eye, stole an unsuspecting kiss from El. Both flustered and plagued with hate towards the unexpected action, she was quick to stand up and back away from the boy. It didn’t seem like Mike meant to be rude, perhaps he just had an overwhelming urge to kiss her. But still, it was most definitely something she would have prefered he asked about. Who knows, perhaps she may have let him?

This time, Mike didn’t seem to laugh but instead became a bit more serious. For the first time since she’d arrived, Mike looked at her with his full attention and stood to his feet, reaching out a hand to keep El from getting away too far. It became clear that the action wasn’t meant to be harmful as he did so.

“Please, don’t think of it that way!” Mike cried, catching El’s interest. “It’s, look, wow, I-I’ve done this to everyone- the others, too, on the lips! But not like that, not in that way, but..” Mike sighed losing words just as quickly as he was able to come up with them. It was now his turn to become confused and at a loss of words for the situation. “I-I had Chicken Pox, and I was quarantined, without the drugs and injections, and I was able to postpone going to the back half and any sort of tests I was supposed to get within the first week. I know, this seems so weird, but I promise you, if there’s any chance that you too can contract my Chicken Pox, it will be worth getting suddenly kissed by me, I promise.”

El stared at Mike for a moment, both trying to ease the awkwardness but also trying to pinpoint everything he was saying. It was all so sudden, and odd, and to be truthful she didn’t mind it all, but the thought of needing to contract Chicken Pox in order to stay out of this back half just felt weirder than the entire thought of being suddenly kissed by a boy she’d only just met. But finally, after seemingly been without them for the time she since she’d woken up in this place, she was finally able to speak with a slight idea of what she was talking about. 

“These other people you keep talking about, don’t suppose there already in the back half?” She cocked an eyebrow, breaking the tension in the room by the slightest. Nonetheless, Mike grinned with gratitude for an excuse to escape his unexpected kiss, and grasped her hand tightly as he beckoned her out of the room.

“Oh, you’re just going to love the others!” was the last thing El was able to make out before being pulled through two giant doors and being suddenly welcomed by a very bright light she certainly wasn’t expecting.


	3. Chapter II: Unwanted Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

The drive back to Hawkins, Indiana was more painful than Hopper could ever imagine. It seemed he had only ever needed to go back there when someone died or he was knocked off his feet again and had nowhere else to stay. Sure, he’d grown up in the small town with all its current recipients, but he’d been sure to bolt out of there as soon as the opportunity made itself present.

Granted, ‘bolting out of there’ was just a fancy way of saying he ‘got drafted for the war’, but by no means was anyone forcing him to take a second tour. But even the glory of being a returning soldier couldn’t give him a home, so after his times around, he had made his way back to Hawkins with more emotional baggage than he thought possible.

That was strike one of many. He ended up crashing with an old high school hookup, but after determining that it’d become too awkward due to said person’s new husband and children, he was out of the place by January of the following year. He ended up moving upstate to Indianapolis, where he collected a night-knocker job and eventually a wife of his own.

Diana, being a proclaimed writer simply visiting the capital for some meetup, was quick to swoop him up back to her Montana home. A child, few bestsellers, and several vacations later, news of an old friend’s divorce made its way to him and he packed up all his bags to Hawkins, Indiana just to assure they were well off enough to support themselves and their two kids. After enough reassurance to last a lifetime, Hopper returned to Montana, though things only began to spiral from there.

Mother’s death in ‘73 brought him back to Hawkins one last time before his own move from Montana. Service was brief but painful, leading him to develop and substance problem.‘75, Diane demands a divorce and moves to California, leaving Hopper to care for his daughter as a single parent. Not that he minded much, but it certainly was easier when two people were caring for a child, and not just one. Later that year, he too moved, only this time to the sunny shores of North Carolina, where he found himself a sherries job well paying enough to provide for both he and Sarah.

But nothing good ever lasts, for in ’76 he’d been called away for a case surrounding a girl that was ultimately tossed house to house by different foster families that for unknown reasons could not give her a home. It was decided that she be investigated and if found innocent (As if a four-year-old wasn’t innocent) was to be placed in a permanent home. This forced Hopper to shell out the money for a babysitter, as he likely wouldn’t be home in time and didn’t have any family to watch Sarah for him.

The girl, named Jane Ives, was determined to be perfectly fine under the eyes of the law, though no one came forward to adopt the girl. Tired and just wanting to go home, Hopper volunteered his home for the girl knowing that she and Sarah would get along just fine for the time until a permanent home was found.

Except Sarah never got to meet Jane, as when he’d returned home the babysitter had described someone claiming to be her mother had come to pick her up and bring her to her own house after getting notified by Hopper to do so. It became clear to the babysitter, that there was no such order, and that someone had, in fact, kidnapped his daughter.

Search parties were sent out across the state and country, all in order to find the missing Hopper girl. The only description of the person they managed to squeeze out of the babysitter was that the person was a tall female driving a ‘Hawkins Energy and Electric’ van, and nothing more. Even a final trip to Hawkins availed nothing of Sarah’s location, and the case was finally shut after making its way into ‘76 with no new information making itself present.

Hopper was heartbroken but had to prevail. He vowed to never return back to Hawkins and attempt to move on from the situation, knowing that moping about the entire situation wouldn’t do any good for anyone. Instead, he had to continue on with his life, and provide an even better life for Jane Ives, whom he ended up adopting after one year of the case’s closing and having no one step forward to take her in.

Soon after that, he ended up moving to Albany, Nee York after being offered an even better position, with no needed trips farther than out of the city and certainly not Hawkins. He’d lived there with no issues until ‘85, when he’d been faced with the same issue he had ’76.

That was now, nine years after the event. Instead of spending the weekend with El, he was being forced to return back to Hawkins not to investigate any possible kidnappers, but to try and track down said people, now understanding the link the disappearing children seemed to have.

“Hopper!” A voice-Joyce Byers-called out as she approached his car. She looked different, with a few pounds knocked off and a streak of grey beginning to climb down her hair. It was true that they’d aged since their last meeting, he’d just never noticed how much. Just how much time had passed since he’d seen her, and why did something bad always have to happen for them to see each other? 

“Hey, Joyce, sorry it took so long..” Hopper trailed off, climbing out of his car and scanning the surroundings to make sure there wasn’t anyone too close by. In the articles, he’d found on missing children there seemed to be a consistent panic about whether or not the kidnappers would have people nearby to make sure people didn’t get too close to finding them out. But whether or not the articles were trustworthy or not was yet to be discussed.

“No shit, thirteen hours! You couldn’t have taken a plane?” Joyce wasted no time grabbing on to Hopper’s wrist and dragging him into the house. She seemed panicked, if not perhaps tired, but at this point, the reasons had become quite clear. The phone call didn’t end in a true answer, but instead only in the phone clattering down as she rushed away with the news that Hawkin’s Energy and Electric (Even if the facility had since been proven to not be in Hawkins) had been making its rounds for the first time in a while, or at least to their knowledge.

They had known the risk when Sarah had first disappeared after a quick peek at the good ‘ol birth records. It was simple: They collected (Or really, Scott Clark, the middle school’s Science teacher who had first suggested the experiment collected) the birth records of fifty people who had disappeared, twenty-five of which have either the guardians murdered or having seen something related to Hawkins upon the disappearance. From there, they’d look to the children’s BDNF (Or ‘Brain-derived neurotrophic factor’, as Scott called it) levels, calculated the average, and determined that those above the average were most commonly the ones to be theoretically taken by the kidnappers, where the others were likely taken by other people.

Now, it was never proven (It was the only thing they found to be within a reasonable range of each other and seemed to fluctuate with the children supposedly taken by Hawkins Energy and Electric), and it was truly something they’d come to talk amongst only themselves, but it’s still something they’d kept in the back of their minds since the case was permanently closed. 

So then there came the issue: The possible knowledge created a sense of dread in both Joyce and Hopper. For upon discovering the information that these people were supposedly after, they began checking their own records, just to attempt to pinpoint any potential threat to come. It started off fine, the first test being done on Joyce’s oldest, Jonathan, to find that his BDNF level at birth was actually below average. But things quickly took a turn for the worse. Jane Ives, the girl Hopper would soon come to foster, had levels well above the average, and Will almost double.

They had never come to believe in themselves enough to really ponder the possibility of another incident to occur.

“And we knew the risk too.” Joyce sobbed, pointing to the number, clear as day on the worn birth record. It was almost painful to look at, knowing their mistakes and how they could have possibly prevented it. “Shit, we knew that it could happen, we were just waiting to see if it was real!”

Hopper attempted to calm Joyce down, wishing not to disturb anyone else. But it was no use. Joyce could only cry as she longed to be able to fix her mistake. But deep down, Hopper knew this time would be different. He wouldn’t allow another closed case with another shattered family, not now.

Hopper pulled Joyce close and grasped tightly, not once taking his eyes away from the document. “We’re going to shut those bastards down,” Hopper mumbled, low enough for only Joyce to hear. “We’re going to get them back.”

“Team Bard,” Brenner hummed aloud, beginning to rifle through a stack of freshly printed papers. The sheets contained information anywhere from the intake of new children, and, ah, the output, if you would. But among the stack of what was at least the very least fifty children’s records who happened to remain in the facility as of that morning, one seemed to stand out as missing to the man. “I have a bit of a question for you.”

“Is it when you plan to pay us? Because I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Harold joked, rolling his eyes and taking little interest to the problem at hand. Not that it particularly, seeing as he was tied to the lab without a return home for another four months, but it seemed comical at the time and something a person with a regular profession would add.

Teddy crowed loudly as Connie snickered a bit, but Brenner didn’t even break a meer smile. Instead, he took to licking his upper lip and grabbing a pistol from his drawer. Pulling the hammer back and aiming just between Connie and Harold, he shot, waiting for only the pair’s cease in laughter and panicked expression to speak again.

“I’ve noticed that the girl, Jane Ives, has shown up in our facilities…” Brenner spoke, moving on from the initial response and making quick work of the problem at hand. Instead, he simply pushed the gun back into its compartment and didn’t care to speak at it again. He’d have to have Barb take care of the hole later, as he didn’t care to tarnish the room too bad. “But not the Byers boy.”

Connie looked to exchange confused glances but was only met with disappointed stares from her coworkers. They hadn’t been issued orders to grab anyone else besides the Hopper-Ives?-girl, and even if said kid happened to reside in the same state it would be too dangerous to have the van around should someone notice a similarity between crime scenes.

“Byers?” Connie scoffed, stepping forward to confront the situation. “That was Cleric’s job, not us. It’s not safe to have more than one kid at a time on hand, you know this.”

Brenner nodded a bit, but not in a manner to show understanding, but instead one to represent sarcasm. Nonetheless, he had respect for the girl, for having the ability to actually step out in speak her mind instead of continuing on with the other’s way of pretending to know what they’re talking about when truthfully, it would also be their fault. Perhaps a promotion was coming for Ms Frazier should she continue with the outstanding work.

“Fair enough. But I dare say the Hawkins, Indiana is closer to Georgia than say, Albany, New York? You’re bound to have some sort of contact with Team Cleric, what is taking them so long?” Brenner questioned, continuing to eye Connie.

“Well, you’re bound to have seen the BDNF score. The kid’s more than double, closer to the Derry children than anything we’ve ever had in our branch.” Connie suggested, recalling the last conversation she’d had with one of the team’s members. “I know it’s not typically traditional to have a kid from outside Derry to be sent to the Maine branch, but they also weren’t sure if it’d be safe to send him here.”

Brenner leaned back in his chair and considered it for a moment, taking a good, long thought to the possibilities. On one hand, having a kid just that powerful-even if they had to do somethings to ignite the power- could do wonders for the already outstanding branch.

But on the other hand, it couldn’t be good to mix that sort of group. Derry was almost contaminated in a way, where they went through very slowly and thus was able to collect the kids every once in a while, with only one child doing the work of what could very easily be up to twenty in their own facility. But one weak link could very easily throw off the system, something that could take them years to repair. It was better to just keep it the way it was for now, but if child proved to be more powerful than the had originally perceived, they could easily do a switch.

“Tell them to bring him here, but to be prepared to send him to Maine,” Brenner said finally, waving his hand goodbye once he’d finished his orders.

And with that, everyone began to file out. First Harold, then Teddy, until finally, Connie left the room, leaving him with only his thoughts and the possibilities of what to do with the boy. Imagine what he could do with him and the Ives girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found out that the concept of BDNF is real and I don’t know what to do now
> 
> (It’s not to the level it’s described to be in the book/fic, but what if???)


End file.
